Three Fugitives and a Baby
by Unbridled.mind
Summary: A yearly health check leads Detective Carter to an interesting discovery about her future with the man in the suit...or the leather jacket. As their worlds collide and overlap more than ever before she wonders if they stand a chance or if he'll lose his freedom before they get to the delivery room. Rated T. Discontinued as of 2-Apr-16.
1. Prologue

_A/N: I recall_ _saying something about writing something lighter. Let's see how long that lasts.  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Friday 8th January 2016, 4.41pm, Sloppy Joe's Diner, New York_

Lionel Fusco was the type of man who enjoyed the finer things in life, therefore it wasn't an ordinary sloppy joe on his plate; it was A-grade grilled grounded beef on a brioche bun with ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise neatly sitting in miniature bowls on the side. The curly fries he enjoyed so much were fried twice and a stack of gherkins stood on a bed of lettuce for decoration. It was a very late lunch and he was going to enjoy it…until the leather-clad thorn in his side slid into his booth.

"Missed me, Lionel?" John asked, looking down at the plate of cardiac arrest and atherosclerosis.

"Like a hernia. What d'you want?"

John's blue eyes flashed. "Who says I want something?"

"You only show up when you want something. I only see you when you want something. So, what d'you want?"

John couldn't deny it was true and today was no exception. "Tear gas."

"Do I look like riot police to you?" Fusco blinked, and chewed the white and yellow curly fry. "Any other requests?"

"I _would_ ask you to stop eating like a human garbage disposal but I need your car. And a badge."

"Anything else, James Dean?"

He smirked. "The night is young, Lionel. _Bon appetit_."

 _5.03pm, Dr Perry's Office, Amsterdam Ave, Manhattan_

For as long as she could remember Joss hated seeing the doctor and avoided going like the plague. Perhaps it was her earliest memory of having a teddy bear shook in her face while her mother held her down for immunisation shots. Or maybe it was the obstetric nurse who, without a word, took her newborn from her arms seconds after his birth. Either way she was only there because Detective Witecki had a heart attack on the job and Captain Armstrong insisted on all on-duty staff obtaining a clean bill of health before the end of the month, or as Fusco described it: "Ass-covering before the next audit." She didn't understand why the chair was so cold and sticky at the same time, or why she had to lean back or what was up with the air con. The room was so sterile she couldn't stand it.

"Let's start with the basics. Do you smoke?" Dr Perry asked, diligently ticking off the boxes on her computer screen. Although she'd recently cut her hair and had short shiny nails and sensible shoes, Joss could tell she was young, probably too young to be her doctor.

"Never."

The young doctor was only a few years out of Med School, so she believed everyone smoked something. "Anything besides cigarettes?"

Joss couldn't believe she was being put on the spot by someone she could've babysat. "Not since college…okay Law School. Not since Law School." She admitted, counting the tiles on the wall from right to left.

"Do you drink alcohol?"

"Dark liquor on occasion and red wine."

"How often?"

 _Whenever John's around._ "About 2 or 3 times a week." Dr Perry nodded and Joss suddenly thought she could skip the questionnaire altogether and speed this thing along. "Look, I work out three times a week, sometimes four, and I get a lot of exercise on the job, I eat healthy, most of the time, and I don't use drugs. My blood pressure's normal unless my son calls me from college asking for money and my-"

"It's okay, Ms Carter. I know you're in good health."

"So you'll sign me off?" She asked, eyeing the door.

"Not just yet."

She sighed deeply. "It's the Pap smear, right? I know I'm late but it's hard to keep an appointment when you work homicide. Dead people don't keep a schedule."

"I can relate."

For some reason that was enough for Joss to sit back. "So what is it?"

"You're pregnant."

Joss shook her head like she had a nervous tick. "No. My son's out of the house. And I'm 44, a cop, and I just signed up for one of those crazy workout classes, so…I don't think so."

Dr Perry looked down at her chart. "Your HcG levels say something different, Ms Carter." Joss felt far more flawed than pregnant. "Would you like some pamphlets, to consider your options?" She was stunned silent. "Or, you could just sit here for a while and I'll bring you some water."

Joss nodded limply as though her head was being pulled up and down by a string. The chilled water hit her clenched throat and several thoughts ran through her head. "It took years to have my son. Years. He's 18 now."

The doctor couldn't relate but she took enough patient-doctor relations seminars to know that she needed reassurance and a listening ear. "Which college?"

"Emory." Joss managed to say between sips.

"Ah, Atlanta. My ex went to DeVry; should've been my first sign."

It was working; it made her feel at ease, surprising for a doctor who probably still got carded. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Honestly, you're in great shape. One of my patients just had her first at 41; perfect health.

"The baby or the mom?"

Although she looked calm and collected her shaking foot showed she wasn't alright. "Both. Is there someone you'd like to call?"

"Nope, I'll be fine."

"Then we'll book you in for a dating scan."

"A dating scan?" She repeated, she couldn't remember having one the first time around, in fact most of it was a blur.

"To find out how far along you are."

She could feel the acid reflux coming up and tried to clear her throat. "Yeah, of course."

"And the pamphlets?"

"It's okay, I already know what I'm gonna do."


	2. Who? What? When? Where? How?

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who's along for the ride :) My aim is to post twice a week as I've got a long commute for the time being._ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _A week later, Saturday 16th January 2016, 7.19pm, Joss' apartment_

 _Who? What? When? Where? How?_

The _who_ was a doozy; in the last two years the most action she'd gotten from a man who wasn't John was a warm handshake or a cat-call. If He could get away with things most men would get shot or arrested for; like popping into her shower when she was sure she locked the door, or showing up in the back seat of her unmarked BMW and making off with her handcuffs. At times he was just a beautiful distraction; something to take her mind off her empty nest. But more than that, ever since Taylor left home she had less to worry about and therefore, walked the line between careless and carefree more often than she had in years. John's M.O. of "think less, do more" rubbed off on her as evidenced by the three futile home pregnancy tests later, with the plus sign, the pink dot and the fancy one with the text on it, all confirming it was true.

Joss could no longer fight over the _what_ , as in what in the hell? So she focused on the how; and she had fun reminiscing. So much fun that she didn't hear the door buzzer going off downstairs or her mother letting herself in with her set of keys. Instead she meditated on her time in the backseat with the handcuffs; making up for her lost youth…had she been daring enough at the time or if she had different parents.

When Joss was a girl, she believed her mother could see around corners and through walls to know what she was doing. Why? Because she told her so with enough confidence and conviction it had to be true. And when she was a teenager, she believed her mother's vision extended to a sixth sense that passed through closets and car doors; which always kept her from going past second base. Yet here she was today, not a child or a teenager, and old enough to know better, but pregnant. It took years for her to realise Evelyn was not bionic as much as she was extraordinarily nosy and persistent. Her insatiable appetite for other people's business made her a hunter with an eager hound-dog on the scent. A few years ago, her husband Gregory once asked if she was digging for diamonds or dirt, to which she replied, " _I'm digging for sport, Greg; for whatever I can find."_ That day his eyes returned to the newspaper and even now he couldn't curb her compulsion to unearth secrets and uncover truths and untruths.

"There you are." Evelyn commented, her eyes darting around the bathroom instead of making contact, as though she was hoping to catch someone in the act.

Joss almost fell off the edge of the bathroom counter when the door opened. "Ma, I must've missed your call."

They both knew that wasn't true and there wasn't enough time for Joss to mask the positive tests by the sink. "From the looks of things that's not all you missed."

"Uhhhh…buhh…shhh-sh-shhh…you're gonna laugh…"

Evelyn held up her right hand to stop her. "You were always bad at keeping secrets from me, Jocelyn. Always. And you know Janelle can't hold water; once I tipped her $50 she told me all about how your hair had a certain shine to it. When we all know her " _homemade_ " conditioner is store-bought."

Joss could always count on her mother to play Columbo.

"You knew and didn't say anything? Who are you and what have you done with my mother?"

Evelyn exhaled dramatically. "And it was the hardest three and a half weeks of my life, I'll tell you. But I'm not surprised." Joss raised her eyebrows, one going slightly higher than the other. "Of _course_ you're pregnant." Evelyn said casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What'd you mean?" Joss picked the lint off her turquoise sweater.

"You forget things and you _have_ been _more_ than a bit _snippy_ lately."

Needless to say, she didn't appreciate the observation. "Snippy? Is this about the Organ fund? 'Cause I said I'd write a check-"

"See there? Like I told Greg, _snippy_. He's happy for you and he thinks John will be ecstatic…if he can sit still long enough to hear the news of course." Joss should've known her mother had already held a press conference about it. "And so do I, so call him." She prodded. " _Now_ ,"

"Can't." Joss replied, looking for a trap door to fall through and get her out of this mess.

"Where is he?" Evelyn could never get a straight answer to that question but she wasn't one to stop trying.

 _Probably in jail._ "Working."

"Well, tell him to stop playing and get over here. It's important." Usually her expectant blinks were enough to make Joss do something but it was evident her daughter had mentally spaced out, so she brought her back to life and back to reality. "Don't you do it, Jocelyn." She warned.

"Do what?"

"Act innocent…like you haven't been at it like jack-rabbits since my baby left home."

"Jackrabbits?" Joss repeated, mortified.

"In fact, jackrabbits in the desert heat, too busy to answer the phone, missing church three weeks in a row and _late_ with their contribution to the organ fund."

"Ma, really? I said I'd write a check."

"Snippy jackrabbits too. Very snippy." She shook her head in disapproval. "Now you know I _love_ babies but I have two words for you, Jocelyn; _court house_." If this wasn't her mother Joss wouldn't have believed she'd already brought up marriage. But she was. And she had. And there was nothing she could do about it. "A nice spring wedding before you start showing. You know how people talk. He's got enough suits for the occasion, don't you think?"

Joss was too flabbergasted to argue and generally knew better. "I don't know how I got here."

Evelyn thought for a moment and put her hands on her shoulders. "I'm excited for you, I really am. And you need to eat, for your strength. Now, where's the bouillon?"

"I'm all out."

"Coconut cream, onions, potatoes?" Joss shook her head. "When's the last time you bought groceries?" She asked with more intrigue than concern.

"I can't remember."

"Wanna know how you got here? Mmm-hmm, _that's_ how."

 _9.09pm, Dexter's Lab, 52nd Street, Theater District, Times Square, New York_

It was initially Finch's idea to move into the heart of the city so their anonymity would come from the sheer volume of people in the area and hiding in plain sight. Shaw saw the big move as an excuse to spend her days in the $16 million penthouse writing code in a lumberjack shirt and Doc Martens as the world passed her by below. At night, she unleashed her stir-craziness on unsuspecting people; numbers, catcallers and criminals. But there was something deeper behind to her growing technical abilities; as Finch had checked out on New Years' Day.

That day the rest of the world nursed their hangovers while Harold locked himself in his bedroom for hours tripping out on LSD; summoning beautiful, florescent memories of his time with Grace and recalling old Moloko songs. The day Grace took another man's last name as her own (she never knew Harold's real last name but that didn't matter at the time), was the day four turtle doves were released (because she once said releasing any more would be interfering with nature); and the day Shaw realised something was broken inside the man. He hadn't been the same since. Even the Machine had detected an uncharacteristic despondence in Admin.

Today was better, somewhat. Finch was dressed today, albeit in plaid pyjamas and houseshoes that didn't match. "You're needed in Red Hook, Ms Shaw." He advised her. "Sooner rather than later."

"Where's John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt?"

"At the 24th Precinct, something about a brass knuckle fight off Broadway. I've asked Detective Carter for help with that."

She whistled for Bear who was always a willing partner. Looking at him, she still wasn't used to being the normal one.

 _10.23pm, Frothy Coffees, Manhattan_

"Jamie Estevez?" The arresting officer called the name of his new alias and it was like sweet music to his ears.

After she signed John out of holding and reviewed his latest watermarked ID, the swipe marks on his Glock, and the police report, they headed to an artisan café that charged $14 for imported coffee which didn't stop people from piling in by the dozen. John's beard had grown out thicker than before, it was good for his cover and she liked the way it set off his eyes. He smelled like cigarette smoke and mustard and she craved a hot dog even though she hadn't had one in years.

She didn't feel pregnant but her nose picked up the scent of their blue mountain cappuccinos and took her all the way to Jamaica. Judging by the fact he was arrested in broad daylight, her instincts told her he wanted to be caught, but she didn't want to ask. "You okay?" He asked, because she was tapping the table with her nails and she'd never done that before.

"I'm fine."

As nervous as she was about telling him, the universe clearly didn't have her back because Zoe Morgan was sporting a grande cup and made a beeline for their table.

"John," Zoe greeted, with flashy new pink diamond studs and highlights to match. Even Joss had to admit she looked fabulous. "What a surprise."

"Surprise?" John asked, confused.

"It's not exactly your scene. How's it going, Joss?"

"Good, all good. You?"

"I'm great, we've just opened a new office in Midtown."

"Congrats." She replied between sips. "Nice view." … _Of the Hudson_.

"Anyway I just stopped by for Ipoh so I'll see you around."

"Zoe." John said, noticing Joss was tapping her nails again but faster.

"Enjoy your coffee." Joss chipped in, thinking this wasn't the day to run into the woman John used to be 'special friends' with. Usually she wasn't territorial, but her heightened emotional state had her wheels spinning.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm just tired."

"You're always tired lately." He replied without thinking.

"What are you trying to say?"

"You should get more rest." He advised, ticking her off.

She leaned in. "I could, if I didn't have _you_ popping up unannounced, waking me up early and making me late to…everywhere."

He didn't know think she was serious so he wasn't either. "You're welcome."

"I'm welcome?" She repeated.

He took a long sip before responding. So long he had a froth moustache. "You can say no at any time."

"Psssssssh."

"You stopped HR so I know you can stop me. Can't you?"

 _Those damn blue eyes_. "Just drink your coffee."

He smirked because he knew he was winning. They could both attest to how much he enjoyed teasing her. "How's Taylor?"

"He's quiet, I think he's pledging."

"Pledging what?"

"A fraternity."

"I thought he didn't like groups."

"It's exclusive. And his dad pledged so..."

"I see. You miss him."

"All the time."

"I thought I was doing a good job taking your mind off it."

 _You have no idea._ "Here," She wiped off his moustache with her thumb.

He looked down just long enough to see her hand was trembling. "I'm taking you home."

"John, I'm fine." But the tip he left on the table said it wasn't up for discussion.

 _11.03pm, Joss' Apartment_

"…Speaking of will power, can you tell Lionel _grease_ is a movie not a food group?"

"Old habits die hard, John. It's been 4 years and I'm still bailing you out…"

Usually they would fall clumsily through the front door in a torrent of hungry kisses and a fight against the barriers of clothing. Today was different because he was worried about her, especially when she became more talkative just to cover up whatever it was. As the fridge was empty, he poured her a glass of water. "You need groceries."

"I know. I'll order some." The cupboards were almost bare, just a few random herbs and spices and some oatmeal showed she still lived there.

He touched her face. Though her skin was soft, her eyes were redder than usual. "Are you coming down with something?"

"No, but I do have something to tell you and you'll probably need a drink."

"Or not. I'm jacked up on caffeine, remember?"

She started to anxiously play with her hair. "So..."

"So?" He asked.

She took a deep breath and filled her chest with air. "I'm pregnant."

He stared at her, devoid of a response or a witty rejoinder because of the verbal IED that jut detonated in the kitchen. For a moment she thought he'd run out of air by the way he clutched onto the island counter to keep from collapsing.

"John." She called his name to bring him back.

He cleared his throat. "I think I'll need that drink after all."


	3. I told you I was trouble

_A/N: Happy Valentines Day for all the lovers and all the happily single people who spent the day with their friends (myself included). Credit to Amy Winehouse and a fictional rose for everyone who gets all the musical references._ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Saturday 16th January 2016, 11.19pm, Joss' Apartment_

He threw back a second drink…and a third. "John, talk to me." But he couldn't because there were so many thoughts rushing through his head. His grip on the counter was the only thing keeping him upright as his knees had buckled beneath him. On one hand he was happy because he never thought he'd had a child in this lifetime and even though he didn't know many mothers, he was confident Joss was the best there was. On the other hand, his last interaction with the CIA involved death and explosives, and he was so used to being on someone's hit list he didn't want his child to suffer the same fate. How could he tell her their child would be a target from the day he was born?

"How many weeks?" He mustered, before pouring another drink knowing it was one too many.

She was relieved somewhat, at least he was talking. "I don't know yet. The scan's on Wednesday."

"How do you feel? Are you okay?"

"For the most part, I just…don't feel it. At all."

"Hmmm." He looked down at the glass and suddenly felt guilty. "We've been drinking. A lot."

"I know; that's why I've stopped. Maybe we should talk about this later, it's a lot to take in." She suggested, reading the shell-shock on his face.

He nodded, not knowing what to say next. It hadn't ever been this awkward between them and he got the feeling he wasn't saying or doing whatever he was supposed to be saying or doing even though he wanted to do right by her. What he knew for sure was Jocelyn Carter was having his baby and he was going to protect them both; even from himself. Once he decided another drink wasn't worth it, his idle hands couldn't stay still and It wasn't a minute before he started messing with her radio. The red-head from the B52s was singing about shiny happy people with Michael Stipe and she gagged. "I hate that song. I really, _really_ , hate that song."

 _Sunday 17th January, 9.25am, Joss' Apartment_

The original _Alvin and the Chipmunks_ theme song woke her up for the second time. Even through crusty eyes she knew John was no longer lying beside her; naked except for the socks she wished she could set on fire. His sweater and jeans were gone, so was the black watch she liked…until she found out Shaw put a mic in there and impulsively bashed in the screen with a hammer. She thought it looked good as new and John sometimes wore it as a reminder of what her 'crazy' looked like, seeing as she was more than familiar with his.

John had two hours of sleep because his mind was too active and awake to switch off. Thoughts of Joss carrying his child bounced around his head like a pinball, inspiring plans of dusting off the bazooka he kept in storage. He watched her while she was sleeping and made promises he kicked himself for not saying out loud. The least he could do was stock her fridge with groceries; namely steak, bacon, eggs and berries. She yawned and filled the kettle, he rubbed her lower back from behind. "Coffee?"

"Should you be drinking that?" He asked.

She smiled because he was already looking out for the baby. Their baby. "Two cups a day, no harm. You're gonna cook for me?"

He didn't appreciate the surprised tone in her voice. "I've cooked for you before. _Eggs_. _And_ steak. You want eggs?"

She elbowed him because that was usually how the trouble started, with another offer she couldn't say no to, that often ended with a plate of eggs. And then she remembered something random and embarrassing. "You remember the swing?"

He didn't like to talk about it -as it was his idea- or the holes in the bedroom ceiling. "I remember Shaw's face when you got that concussion."

"It's not your fault, John. I never blamed you." She opened the cupboard, looking for creamer that ran out a week ago. Maybe her mom was right; she was forgetting things.

"Try telling her that. I didn't know you'd fall back like that if I let go. Blame the assholes who made it."

She rolled her eyes; he was the one who said they didn't need to read the instructions. "We can blame TLC, the Isley Brothers, we can even blame it on the alcohol; but we know it's on us." He couldn't argue with that, and despite finding out he was going to become a father less than 12 hours ago, he still wanted her. Preferably now. "Actually, I will have those eggs; can't do much harm now, can they?"

"I'd never 'cause you harm."

She gave him the side-eye. "No? Then what's with the ice pack in the freezer?"

He cleared his throat. "Not intentionally. Fried?"

"Scrambled."

 _10.11am, Joss' Apartment_

She should've been out of the house by now. She would've been in the car on her way to church by now. She could've been dressed in something smart-casual by now. But instead she was stretched over a fresh-out-the-box curved sex pillow that still had the factory smell on it. John figured since she was already pregnant, whatever birth control failed them before wasn't worth using again. _I mean I can't knock you up twice, right? Right._ He took in the view from behind, little things he didn't notice before seemed clearer; her hair was shinier although she still wouldn't get it wet, her skin smelt a little different but he couldn't describe how, and the breasts cupped in his hands felt fuller which didn't bother him at all.

In Joss' mind, the answer to whether John was a problem wasn't in a classified file in CIA headquarters; it was found in the jazz song he was playing between her thighs, making cosmic orgasmic echoes, strumming and killing her softly. His music sent her on an illogical and irrational high, how else could she explain why she was ignoring her cell phone when Fusco was on the line. "Wanna get that?" He asked, after the second call.

"No." But it rang again and it was evident she didn't have a choice.

"Damn Fusco." John muttered as she crawled out from beneath him and reached for the phone in her jeans pocket.

"Hey Lionel…I was…downstairs." She covered John's mouth with her free hand. "Three?...Yeah I'll be there soon…Gotcha…Okay, bye."

"Three bodies?" He asked, talking homicide was a fast way to lose an erection without coming yet.

"Yeah, all pulled from the Hudson this morning." She pulled some clothes out the closet. "I guess you have nothing to do with that, right?"

"Me? Not this time." He lied for a number of reasons; the first being she didn't need the stress of knowing what happened, the second being she couldn't know what she didn't know, and the third being the start of a very long and winding story. So he changed subject as she wrapped the royal blue towel around her body. "Want company?"

"You always try to get my hair wet and he needs me on duty – fast. So no."

Usually he would've worked his way in there but he and Shaw were supposed to be taking turns keeping the pieces of Finch held together as he went through another heartbreak. "What time's the scan?"

"2 o'clock Wednesday, think you can make it?"

"I'll try. I mean, I want to." That was worth a kiss, because it was an adjustment for both of them. At least she knew what to do, at least she knew what it was like to centre her life around someone else. So she resolved to bring him in the best way she knew how and give her second child a better chance at growing up with their father. Like she did. And like he and Taylor didn't.

 _10.58am, Fort Washington Park, Hudson River Greenway, New York_

Joss was later to the site than she expected but she spotted Fusco and his girlfriend of six months, Alexa Vinh from Forensics, sharing a coffee that frosty morning and they swapped theories. Everyone thought they were an odd couple but as long as she accepted his son and he tolerated her howling Golden Retriever they were happy.

"'Afternoon, Carter." He teased.

"What'd I miss?" She asked as Alexa shuffled out of sight, joining the small team on their canvas of the woods. Although there was no fraternisation policy to stop them from being together, Alexa didn't want to be linked to the Infamous duo or Batwoman and Robin as they were sometimes called in jest.

"A park ranger spotted a body floating on the river first thing this morning. Call him Larry."

"Larry?" Joss repeated.

"So they swept this area where people go fishing,"

"Illegal fishing, but go on."

"And found Curly and Mo at the bottom of the river, they got the Mob treatment; cement and everything."

"Any luck ID'ing them?" She asked, hoping this wouldn't get buried along with the other bodies at the morgue.

"Not yet." He looked at her with suspicion. "You got something to tell me?"

"Like what?"

"Like what Pierce Brosnan's up to and where he gets off asking for tear gas and mace. I'm not his supplier, Carter…"

 _Wednesday 20th January, 2.12pm, Dr Perry's Office, Amsterdam Ave, Manhattan_

John was late but he was there. That's what she told herself when she wanted to leap off the doctor's chair and smack him; not for his tardiness but for the news that just kept on coming.

First, "…You're roughly 11 weeks so that makes your due date August 2nd. Summer babies."

"Babies?!" They exclaimed in unison.

Dr Perry was used to the shocked response and dealt with it by providing proof. "If you look at the right you'll see the second sac over here. Now _that's_ a healthy heartbeat." It wasn't working.

If her stomach wasn't covered in ultrasound gel and there wasn't company around she would've choked him. "Damn eggs." She mumbled, shaking her head.

"Excuse me?" The young doctor asked, bemused as John heard her loud and clear.

"I don't remember every time I made you eggs, Joss." He tried to explain it wasn't his fault. That wasn't working either.

"That's the last time you meet me in the shower, remember that." She fired back with a glare.

"Maybe you could wait outside Mr…" Dr Perry offered, she didn't mind confrontation with patients directly but she couldn't handle confrontation between them.

The silence said it all and Joss wondered what alias he was going by today besides super-sperm-donor-man-007. "Harris. John Harris." He confirmed. "And I'm fine right here. She's just mad 'cause I defy the laws of physics."

She smiled, because he was charming. "I think you mean laws of nature."

"Can you get this off?" Joss interjected, referring to the blue gel on her belly.

"Of course, as soon as I've taken pictures of Baby A."

John was fascinated by the movement on the screen even though he couldn't make out the head or anything. They looked like lima beans in black and white to him, but it was quite surreal regardless. The happier he was the stronger Joss' urge was to kick him in the shins because she had all the work and he had the fun part – twice.


	4. I bruise easily

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who appreciates the humour. I always wanted to write a comedy - even a twisted, subtle one. Credit to Natasha Bedingfield for the chapter title.  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Thursday 21st January, 1.06am, Joss' Apartment_

Like clockwork, Joss woke up at 1am with heartburn. Yet another gift from John she didn't ask for but got in spades anyway. While she chewed two antacids in the dark, she could hear him breathing deeply. Massaging her chest, and flooded with midnight thoughts of the next 18 and a half years, she felt he was sleeping too peacefully for her liking. She thumped him in the face with a pillow until he saw the white light.

"What was that for?" He asked, half-blinded.

She exhaled. "Cause you're so damn happy and for the holes in the ceiling you _said_ you'd fill in three months ago."

He still couldn't open his eyes. "For the hundredth time, I thought the screws were in. It's not my fault."

So she thumped him again, exclaiming; "Twins, John? Twins?"

He surrendered to her blows and hoped this would end in pile of feathers and a whole lot of fun. "That's what she said. Guess the social worker was right; I can excel when I apply myself." He saw the next thump coming. "I can see you're upset-" _Thump_. "And this is helping you-" _Thump._ "Work it out. But if you-" _Thump_. "Think for a moment you'll realise-" _Thump_. "This has the potential to be the greatest-"

She was so distracted by the words that weren't his, yet were coming out of his mouth, that she held the pillow mid-air. "What? What are you talking about?"

He tapped on the lamp twice, producing a dim light. "I'm doing my best impression of Finch. I do that sometimes, in my head; the voice of reason."

She couldn't suppress her smile. He prised the pillow from her grip and pulled her into a bear hug for his own protection. "I can't stand your wanted-in-five-states-turbo-sperm-shooting ass."

John was flattered; no-one had ever said anything like that to him before. "Actually it's six; if you count Wisconsin."

"I do." She said in her 1-900 voice before she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him. "I'm serious, John. What are we gonna do with the babies?"

"Take care of them?" He suggested, thinking that much was obvious.

"I mean with your job, your record, the government agency that wants you dead, the numbers, whoever you pissed off this week-"

He rubbed his chin on her head. "Doesn't matter."

"What'd you mean it doesn't matter?"

"We'll work out the details later."

"You mean never."

"I don't make plans; I know better. Now, you gonna let me sleep or d'you wanna get some more hits in?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'd choke you if I didn't think you'd enjoy it."

"I would…very much." He confirmed, rubbing her back.

"I don't wanna worry about who's coming through the door." She yawned, long and loud. "But I do."

"Then don't. 'Cause I've got you. All of you." He lifted the covers for her to get back into bed and for the moment she felt assured. Or maybe it was just the hormones. Either way she felt less tense as they lay there in a crooked-letter embrace and comfortable silence until he broke it. "No nails." He mumbled in her ear.

"Huh?"

"If you're gonna choke me; no nails. You know I bruise easily."

"How ironic." She replied before letting out a light snort.

 _Three weeks later, Thursday 11th February 2016, 2.33pm, Joss' Apartment_

 _14 weeks._

After the shock wore off and she resisted the urge to kick him in his sleep, Joss slowly came around to the idea of having two babies in her life even though she didn't have the courage to tell her son yet. She told herself the news would interfere with his classes, he should enjoy being a freshman, and he didn't need to be worrying about her and rushing Kappa Lambda Nu at the same time. But it would show the next time he came home because to her chagrin, she could feel her bump already even though it was easy enough to hide. Or so she thought.

"Those pants don't fit." Evelyn told her, blowing her nails dry.

"Sure they do." She insisted, fighting with the zipper and clasp.

 _She never did listen._ "Okay, then try sitting." Her mother dared her. "For an hour."

"Fine, fine. And I really liked these pants." She checked out her backside in the mirror. The grey slim leg trousers were on the verge of splitting if she kept going.

"Look in my purse." Evelyn said casually, as she applied a top coat. She thought it was a shame her daughter had a vanity table she never used. Joss could always trust her mother to come through with something chic, even if it was from a maternity store. "So how's it going with John?"

"He's driving me crazy with all this stuff he's been reading; can you believe he showed up at the gym parking lot to tell me I was doing too much? Almost lost a finger tryna take my mussels away; talking 'bout mercury. But mostly good." She waited for her mother to bring up marriage but to her surprise she didn't.

"That's 'cause they're his future; of course he's overprotective. _And_ he likes the names Bryant and Brianna for a matching set just as much as I do. How about Michael and James for boys and Rosalyn and Evelyn for girls?"

"Sounds great." Joss replied, trying on another pair. "But John should have a say in naming his kids, Ma."

She batted away her objection with a flick of the wrist. "He likes all my suggestions. It's nice to be appreciated for my efforts."

"I appreciate everything you do for me, Ma. Wait a minute…" Joss should've known something was up; not only was her mom spying again and beaming about it but she had a willing accomplice. "Since when was John your favourite? You never like the men I date."

Evelyn smiled with the glee of self-satisfaction. "Since _someone_ made a _very_ generous donation to the organ fund; anonymous of course but I know it was him."

"How? And why?"

"To make up for all those Sundays he missed." Joss didn't bother to tell her mom she had a better chance of getting a bull in a tutu than ending John's double-digit record of skipping service at St. Luke's. "And he's not like the men you usually pick; you know the type." With a cup of tea to her lips, she unknowingly made a Kermit meme.

She exhaled and, to her delight, the new pants fit without pinching her skin. "How do I look?"

"Smart. Like a Detective who's hiding her pregnancy under layers of work clothes."

"Ma," She groaned, sounding like Taylor when they asked about his "little friend."

"What?" Evelyn asked, obliviously. "It's true. Now, back to the names; did I tell you Evelyn's not just classic but French too? Check Urban Dictionary."

"And what do you know about Urban Dictionary?"

"What? I'm current…"

 _7.01pm, 8th Precinct_

For Fusco, the work benefit of dating a forensic toxicologist was getting the latest updates without going through all the red tape. The disadvantage, however, was working so late he couldn't make their dates on time. The coroner confirmed that Curly and Mo, as he christened them, had died from drowning; a reward for two low-level thieves who knocked over a small jewellery store, unaware of its mob affiliation. "Larry" had been identified as a former Marine who dropped off the grid after being dishonourably discharged seven years ago. As people who spent their time catching up with the three fugitives they called friends, they knew which signs to look for.

"He was Delta; highly-trained, 11-percent body fat." Joss surmised. "I'm not buying the discharge. Look at his record up-to-then."

"Well you know army guys better than I do." Fusco teased, making sign-language with Alexa that he was trying to wrap up for the day and make it to dinner.

She could tell he wanted to go but something beyond his control was making him hesitate. "You ain't slick, Fusco. Just go. I'll be fine here."

"Yeah right."

"Wait, did John tell you to stay with me?"

Lionel hated snitching so he curved around being one. "No; he strongly suggested it."

With that, she knew to invest in a heavier pillow. "I'm not an invalid, Fusco."

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders in Alexa's direction. "And I'm not leaving so,"

"What's he got over you? You know that crossbow's an antique, he wouldn't think of using it on you. _Lionel_."

It was harder to lie to her when she used his first name so he cleared his throat and whispered. "Pictures. He's got pictures."

"How?" The glare he sent her in response killed her curiosity. And her appetite. "Okay don't tell me."

"So 'til he gets rid of 'em we're stuck like glue." She shook her head and added this to the "Reason to kill John" list. He changed topic. "'Til the burritos arrive." She thought the code name was fitting, seeing as Shaw called them "jellybeans" when she saw the sonogram. "Oh, and congrats Carter. I never said it."

"Thanks."

"You don't sound happy,"

She sipped on ginger tea; Dr Perry said it was good for her acid reflux. "I'm supposed to be at the finish line, you know? Now I have to start all over. There's childcare, gotta find a paediatrician, a kindergarten, college money,"

He nodded. "Bail money." She stared at him with the opposite of appreciation. "Come on Carter. G.I. Joe's twins? You gotta have at least one Dennis the Menace II Society in there."

"You always know _just_ what to say to make me feel better." She replied, looking around the bullpen. There weren't enough desks to go around lately so it was always noisy, which made it much easier to have private conversations.

"So when you gonna tell Captain?"

"When I have to. I don't want him to bench me."

"Well, your secret's safe with me...For a price."

She spotted Alexa in the corner of her eye. "A steakhouse special for two? Tonight?"

"Carter," He groaned, thinking of pictures of him and Alexa in a compromising position.

"I won't tell if you won't."

He grabbed his jacket. "If I end up in the Cloud, it's on you."

"You won't, I'll make sure of it."

 _7.19pm, Dexter's Lab, 52nd Street, Theater District, Times Square, New York_

When she saw Finch pruning and talking to his bonsai tree, Shaw thought Grace had broken his brain for good. But she had other problems; like a dead marine she used to know, a body that was pulled from the water, and a detective that didn't quit even with jellybeans in her stomach. So when John showed up to switch places with her for next few hours, she pulled him onto the balcony. "They know about Siedal."

John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Crap."


	5. Floating to the surface

_A/N: I'm trying really hard not to be angsty but I can't help it...  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _7.21pm, Dexter's Lab, 52nd Street, Theater District, Times Square, New York_

In the few years they'd worked together, John had never known Sameen Shaw to be nervous about anything. If she was on edge; she always found a physical outlet or person to alleviate the pressure. But today she was smoking a cigarette for her nerves. Designation: Operation Tango. That's how 'Mehri Kirmani' first met Alan Siedal, through her covert intelligence operation on the Turkey-Syria border. To him, she was a translator and aspiring journalist from Iran. To her, he was a mark; an American recruit to an eco-terrorist, anti-oil organisation. If she had accessible and discernible emotions they could have been called lovers, but because she didn't, all that was left in the sheets was an exchange of bodily fluids.

Seven years later, she spotted him following her more than once after the yoga class she led in her 'Nina Sigales' cover. Weeks after that, John stood over his found his dead body in her loft and agreed to dispose of it in the Hudson river. But like old operations she suppressed the memories of, his body rose to the surface bringing the truth along with it.

"Do not. Tell Joss." He stated simply.

"I don't have to." She took a long drag. "She's gonna find out sooner or later. Ever known her to stop digging?"

"Damnit."

 _Valentine's Day, Sunday 14th February 2016, 11.10am, Joss' Apartment_

It took her son calling all the way from Atlanta on a number she didn't recognise to remind Joss it was Valentine's Day. She hadn't heard from John for a few days so her hopes weren't high for the rest of the day, and the only fiery sensation in her chest was heartburn. He sounded tired, really tired, and she assumed it was from partying or pledging or both; not that he'd tell her about that.

"…So what did he get you?" He asked, between yawns, sharing his expectation even if she didn't have any.

"Mind your business, Tay."

"C-minus." He graded.

She could feel him shaking his head on the other side. "Hey, how's the girl with the holes in her face?"

He knew she wasn't to be played with, even with the protection of a phone line. "They're piercings and she's not my girlfriend. She's just a girl down the hall."

"If you say so."

"How're you doing?"

She couldn't ignore that he'd yawned yet again. "Good. We miss you around here, so much. They got you cleaning the frat house in heels yet?"

" _Ma_." He replied, sounding more exhausted than mannish.

"I know; you couldn't tell me if they did. You need money?"

"No, but if you're offering..."

"I'm not. But I'll send you a plane ticket for Easter."

"For real?"

"Sure, I'm feeling generous."

"Thanks."

She felt a cramp coming on, as though the twins were reminding her of their presence. "And I have something to tell you."

"Okay, what?"

"Umm, it's hard to say on the phone."

He knew he wouldn't get any sleep leaning against the wall but it helped somewhat. "Are you selling the house?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Did John get you fired?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"'Cause whenever he's around, there's trouble."

That buzz word stunned her. "Trouble?"

"You know; either someone's in trouble, he's in trouble, _you're_ in trouble..."

She was shocked at how right he was without knowing it. "Umm Tay-"

He cut her off with an abrupt change of tone. She swore she could hear banging on his door and yelling. "Gotta go."

"What? We barely talk these days."

"I'llcallIpromise." He rushed through; making one word out of the short sentence.

"Alright Tay, love-" The line cut off and she hoped he was okay.

Joss was always surprised when John used the front door to come in, but his helmet on the sofa told her he came on the Ducati Scrambler. When she saw the breakfast laid out on the kitchen island she pinched herself to make sure she wasn't having a Hook-movie-food-fantasy and the short order cook in the brown leather and lambskin jacket was real. He warmed up the thick waffles from Artemis, her favourite café she never went to, while she spotted the fresh berries, French jam in small pots, and ice cream on the counter.

"Dairy-free?" She asked. Every time she satisfied her ice-cream craving the heartburn that followed instantly made her regret it. "You remembered?"

"I listen…sometimes." For some reason, he was able to remember everything Dr Perry said…except that sex slows down in pregnancy – because that idea wasn't worth entertaining much less believing. He opened the cupboard and shook a noisy little bottle of pills. "You're not taking your vitamins."

"So this is the downside of having babies with a spy." She joked. "I take them at work. That's my back-up."

"Better be. You got John-something and John-something-else in there."

"Nice names you got there. Especially for a _girl_."

He dragged the waffle onto a plate and the thought of having a daughter hit him. Until then it hadn't been on his radar because he just assumed they were boys. And then he remembered. "You said you always wanted a daughter."

She shrugged her shoulders. "The same way every man wants a son. But my son didn't disappoint _in the least_." She hinted. "So I'll be happy with whatever we get."

A random thought popped into his head. "You know if we have a girl; Shaw's gonna buy her a BB gun for her 5th birthday."

"I can see it already." She looked him up and down; something was up with him but she didn't want to ruin the moment. "I can't tell Taylor. Every time I try, the words don't come out."

Those damn blue eyes got her again. "Then _I_ will. We get on, right? _Bon appetit_."

She put her fork to her mouth, knowing he'd already made up his mind and she couldn't change it. "John, you don't have to."

"You shouldn't underestimate him; he's a man. And we can talk just fine without you."

She was comforted by the thought, at least temporarily; she hadn't seen or spoken to Paul since they picked Taylor up from the airport just before Christmas and she thought of him less and less the more time she spent at John's side. It was an enviable space to be since he put his hand on hers to bring her out of the daze. "Hey. I don't want you stressed about anything at all; Taylor will be fine, everything'll be fine. Now eat; they tell me somewhere it's Valentine's Day."


	6. Crossbows and Marshmallows

_A/N: For everyone's weekend, TGIF. And thanks for all the new follows and faves :D  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Wednesday 17th February 2016, 1.55pm, 8th Precinct_

For as long as she could remember, Joss had a thing for men in uniform and her relationship history reflected it. But today the former Marine turned high school teacher came without the cover or the rating badge; he was the only person they could find in the Tri-State area who served with Alan Siedal. The first thing she noticed was Vince Defranco had short, neatly-cut, clean nails as he clasped his fingers together to avoid fidgeting; she could tell he hadn't had many dealings with the police.

"So what can you tell me about Alan?" She interviewed him on her own because Fusco was in Tribeca making up for all their cancelled dates on Alexa's birthday.

"He was a good Assist, Detective. You could trust him in the field to do what was necessary."

"Where'd you serve together?"

"North-West Pakistan '07, '08. We were in the same fireteam."

"Must've been tough out there."

"Yeah, but it's all about trust. And Al was loyal."

"Was he under stress? Maybe his home life?"

"He never mentioned anyone. Between us, I think he started to lose focus towards the end."

"How?"

"It's like his heart wasn't in it, you know? Maybe it was a girl or something. I guess he became more…dissident? A while after we got home, I heard he went M.I.A. and it went downhill from there."

"He was dishonourably discharged."

"I heard. I still don't know why he threw it away; his reputation. Guess it's not for me to know."

"Do you know of anyone he had problems with?"

"Sorry, Detective. I don't. I wish I could be more helpful."

She opened a manila file but hesitated to pull out the article she found in a college library across town. "Can you describe his work ethic for me? At his best?"

"He did everything full force. An all-or-nothing kinda guy."

"I know the type."

 _7.08pm, Joss' Apartment_

 _A crossbow._ Joss thought, staring at the wooden thing in her living room. Whenever John had things delivered to her place, she got the feeling he was trying to distract her. That niggling feeling wouldn't go away that there was trouble around or ahead, and not just the normal "Trouble is his middle name" trouble. She didn't know if she should touch it or not.

"It's Spanish." He informed her. "The conquistadors called it a _ballesta_."

"John-" She tried to say something.

"It's from Andalucia. 16th Century style."

She took off her coat and threw it on the sofa. "John, I'm tired. I want it out of my house."

He changed subject, because it wasn't going anywhere. "Speaking of houses, this place is too small for twins."

She kicked off her shoes. "Don't remind me. We'll probably have to move to Brooklyn."

He hoped she was having one of those days. "You know money is no object, right?"

"And how will I explain living in a million-dollar townhouse in Manhattan? A rich benefactor? Daddy Long Legs bought it for me?"

"I don't know what that means."

"It's a book I read in Junior High." She sank into the lounge chair and he massaged her shoulders. "Mmm, that feels _good_. Crossbow's still gotta go though."

He noticed the frownlines in her forehead. "What's on your mind?"

"I think my _guy_ was involved in an oil well sabotage. Now the challenge is finding out why someone killed him in New York, seven years later, if and how it's related. _And_ Captain Conwell wants a 'work plan' by the end of the week."

"What does that mean? Light duty?"

"You wish. It means an HR-approved plan for me to stick around until I can't. They can't force me on light duty if I can do the work. Or take me off my cases."

"Always the lawyer."

"Had to be good for something."

He knew there was no easy way to say what was next. "You're pushing it."

"I'm not." She protested. If she had to think it was true, then she'd have to do something about it. "Have you told Taylor?"

"Not yet, can't get him for more than two minutes at a time."

"Me neither. He's on line, John. He's not in his right mind.

"Sounds like a cult."

"You don't understand."

"I read. And I do understand being in a group that takes over your life. Even if you wear a uniform, even if you're at _college_."

"I could say it's good for networking and his career or the community but the truth is; it's the only thing he'll have in common with his dad. So it means a lot to him. Just like it means a lot to you to pass something on your son. Like your crossbow."

" _Sons._ " He corrected her.

"Okay, John." She bent her neck for him to work his magic.

Out of the blue he asked something that would've bowled her over if she was standing. Do you wanna get married?"

"You been talking to my mom, _again_?"

"No. Okay, maybe a little."

How Evelyn was able to get a hold of him was a mystery but she knew better than to underestimate the woman behind the 'steam the cookie jar for fingerprints' trick of 1980. "You know she married everyone she dated, right? All two of them."

 _Taylor women aren't for rent_ , rang in his ears. "Do you?"

"Not like this."

"What'd you mean?"

"I don't believe in getting married 'cause you're pregnant, or just _because_. It has to be for a reason."

"Like what?"

"Like…you're ready to say those vows, because you _mean_ them. And _you're_ not ready."

"You don't know that."

"You can't commit to a cover; how can you commit your life to me? Besides, I thought John _Warren_ was closest to your real past so what's up with Harris?"

She never brought up his cover from Riker's so it was a surprise to hear about it over three years later. His explanation was pretty simple. "John Harris is clean; he's a nobody but he's clean."

"So if you could be anybody else; you'd be clean? Not a cage fighter or knife-thrower something?"

"He went to community college. Accounting. He worked at a small firm near Bryant Park for 10 years until he went into business for himself. He likes fishing. When he was 30 he bought a house in Ravenna and his neighbour brought him a box of marshmallows."

"Marshmallows?" She repeated.

"She couldn't bake. She had hazel eyes and brown hair and two left feet."

"What did she do for a living?"

"Junior Professor at U. Dub."

"And her name?"

"Claudette. They fell in love, got married and spent 8 blissful years together with their German Shepherd, Baron."

"Until?"

"Until Claudette doctor diagnosed her with high-grade Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Treatment didn't work and it spread to her brain. When she died, he thought he couldn't live without her. An old friend from elementary school invited him to stay in Connecticut for as long as he needed, helped him get back on his feet. Over the years he tried to date, met some nice women, some not-so-nice women, but he never forgot."

"And then?"

"And then, he moved to the City. Started working for a man named Harold Nightingale. Got a haircut. And some nice suits. And one morning as he stopped to get his morning coffee on the way to work, he saw the light."

She grinned and sank further in the chair, realising how tired her body was. "And what was her name?"

"I don't know, Joss. It's just a story."

"Ugh. You suck." She giggled. "I think Harris is a nice last name."

"I'm glad you approve."

She closed her eyes and exhaled. "Now get those crossbows out of here, I know there's more than one…"

 _9.49pm, Long Island City, Queens_

The neon line for the _Perfect 10-Pin Bowling Alley_ was so bright it lit half the street. Between the cheers from their camera feed and the loud, obnoxious slurps from Shaw's milkshake, John couldn't think straight. "Why didn't you tell me about the sabotage?" His question was following by applause from the tablet.

"Crap." She said dryly, wondering how many gummy worms she could hold in her mouth at once.

"You knew?"

"I knew when it was done. Our team captured 5 out of 7. Alan skipped the country."

"Tell me everything, Shaw; 'cause I need the truth far, far away from Joss."

"Then no."

"No?"

"What'd you think she's gonna do when she finds out I killed Alan and you disposed of the body? You think she's gonna go easy and tase you? Or d'you think she's gonna freak out so bad your jellybeans come early?"

That was the last thing he wanted to happen. "Don't say that."

"In case you forgot, I'm a doctor. She's knocking on 45, knocked up with twins and has _you_ in her life. Doesn't get more high-risk that that."

He conceded a little because this was her version of concern and it was warranted. "Just tell me what to look for."

She shook her head. "You're an idiot."

"I'll take it. Answer me."

"I mean it. All you have to do is ride it out it they put her on desk duty but no. One minute you wanna know everything and the next you wanna be John _Harris_. Pick a side." In her comebacks he knew she was right and offering him deniability. "Anyway, Zoe called."

"Why?"

"You tell me, loverboy." She yawned and checked out her tonsils in the mirror. "Maybe she thinks the door's still open."

"It's not. And we never had an 'open door' policy."

"Just a revolving one, right?"

"Put a sock in it, Shaw."

"Tie a knot in it, clown."

He cocked his gun. "There's our guy."

"After you, ladies first."


	7. The Scan

_A/N: For everyone's weekend. And thanks for all the new follows and faves :D  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Two weeks later, Tuesday 1st March 2016, 3.43pm, Dr Perry's Office,_ _Amsterdam Ave, Manhattan_

' _A detective, a fugitive and a retired nurse turned Samurai-shade thrower walk into a doctor's office…_ ' sounded like the beginning of a corny joke to be told at a dingy bar over beer and peanuts. But this was the life of Jocelyn Carter; 17 weeks into a pregnancy with a man who did more with a 22. pistol before 12 than most people did all day. Maybe she was self-conscious but since her belly officially 'popped out' about a week ago, they couldn't hide their stares at the Precinct because most of her co-workers didn't know she was dating or who the lucky man was. And John was lucky, because he was able to do what no man in her life came close to; charming Evelyn just enough to unload a few bullets from her verbal shotgun. Case in point; he was thirteen minutes late to the appointment but with a bag of strawberry bonbons and a flash of his blue eyes all was forgiven. The pad around Joss' arm tightened again, taking another blood pressure read, and Dr Perry made another long humming sound at the chart on her screen. The square glasses on her nose aged her by about two years, making her look just old enough not to get carded.

"How much exercise are you getting?"

Joss looked guiltily from side-to-side. "Twice a week?" She lied unconvincingly.

"Shame the devil, Jocelyn." Evelyn advised.

She avoided eye contact and stared at a monkey on a children's height chart across the room. "Okay; twice at the gym, once at home and on the job."

"And food, how often do you eat?"

"Twice, maybe three times a day." She could feel John's glare and Evelyn's eye roll. "I try, okay? I'm busy."

Dr Perry sighed a bit louder than she wanted to. "I know; she never did listen." Evelyn told her. "Always thought she was smarter than everybody."

Joss hated being spoken about as though she wasn't there, and was annoyed John wasn't defending her even though she was in the wrong. "There's something you're not telling us. What is it?" John asked, observing that Joss' stubbornness was making her doctor look flushed.

The doctor took the diplomatic approach. "You can find out the twins' gender today, if you'd like to."

"I'd like to. Very much." Evelyn spoke clearly so they were aware there were no other options; she hadn't learnt how to use her smartphone camera for nothing.

"Not until you tell us." John decided, locking eyes with Joss in a way they never had before. "What's going on?"

Her most recent seminar advised on how to tell a patient they had cancer, diabetes, HIV, dementia, schizophrenia or MS, leaving her completely unprepared. "I'm concerned about you, Ms Carter."

"Call me Joss. Everybody else does."

She took a deep breath. "Okay, _Joss_ , you have gestational hypertension or PIH."

"What does that mean?" John asked.

"Pregnancy induced high blood pressure. That's being heightened by your lifestyle."

Evelyn shook her head. "I told you; you never know when to stop."

"Tell me about it." John co-signed, vying for the title of the _biggest hypocrite in human history_.

"If you don't slow down, you'll increase your chance of preterm labour and we don't want that. Especially with twins."

"We sure don't." Evelyn led the chorus like she did at church.

There was no diplomatic way to drop the hammer. "So…I'm putting you on bedrest until your readings come down."

"You're what?" Joss asked, as if she was hard of hearing.

"No offense, _Joss_ , but I can't trust that you'll make the necessary changes if I don't." She was expecting Joss to explode at her and blame it on the hormones, but her elevated heartbeat showed she was in distress. The distress of losing control of the situation. "In the meantime, please get more rest, more sleep, less exercise, eat little and often and take your blood pressure every two hours."

 _Benched. Benched, benched, benched, benched, benched_ ; is all she heard. "Fine." Her tone said the opposite but her heart rate started dropping slowly.

"Let's review your progress in three weeks." Joss' mumbled acceptance wasn't lost on the tag team that didn't know what to do with her. "Are you ready to know what you're having?"

The petty place in her heart wanted John to suffer by making him wait but her curiosity overwhelmed her. "Yeah, I am."

"Great." What happened next was a blur, and before she knew it her stomach was covered in ultrasound gel and Evelyn was asking about a DVD. "Turn to your right," Dr Perry said gently, bringing her back into the moment. She shifted and felt the pressure in her side. "There's Baby A."

Joss blinked. "Is that the arm?"

"And the head, some babies cover their faces…and this is definitely a boy."

"So he's camera shy? Must've got it from his dad."

Joss' inside joke hit the spot. "Told you, Joss." John gloated.

" _John-Something_." They said in unison, making Evelyn misty.

She coughed. "You know, Dr Perry, my allergies are _terrible_ this time of year."

"I can imagine." She humoured the woman because she liked her. "Let's try lying on your back for Baby B."

"Is it supposed to feel like this?" Joss felt out of breath again.

"Uncomfortable? Yes. It won't be long."

John held his breath as the screen turned into a black and white kaleidoscope and the heartbeat of their second twin became more pronounced. They were all so transfixed on the screen that it hadn't dawned on him that he could be holding her hand or rubbing her back. But either way she was more relaxed, he could tell as her eyes searched the screen; trying to make out body parts in the sac. And it became clear that this was his family with the opinionated mother-in-law to boot. Dr Perry was quiet for too long.

"What's happening?" John asked.

"She's looking, John." Joss reassured him, soothed by the heartbeat that said everything was okay. "Tell me a story."

He looked at her mom. "I can't."

"You can." She prodded. "Misadventures of a teenage delinquent."

He did it because it helped her relax. "Fine. When I was almost 18, I got into a fight and the judge said it was either jail or the military." Evelyn's allergies were suppressed by her nosiness and keen ear. "But I never told you what it was about. There was this girl named Hillary Fontaine."

Joss shook her head. "Always with the names."

"She was from the rich side of town." He explained.

She spotted her mom taking mental notes and got in on the game. "And you were from the 'wrong side of the tracks', right? Sounds like a B-movie."

"You like B-movies."

 _Those damn blue eyes_ had her going again and she felt the flutter of the babies moving. "Here." John placed his hand at the top of her bump and could barely feel a thing. "They like your stories."

"I can see the head and two long legs, right here." Dr Perry distracted them from this dance they were doing; the dance she remembered from the last time. "There's the neck. You've got two healthy boys there, Joss. Let's keep them that way?"

"I told you so." John said without reservation. "I've never been more _right_ than I am _right_ now, since the day I met you."

Evelyn would never miss an opportunity to dig for information. "And how did you meet, again? I love that story."

"In cuffing season." John fed her a line to keep her busy. "Right?"

On a day like this, she could agree to anything. "Right."


	8. Kappa Something New

_A/N: For all the Pisceans who read my stuff - my b-day's on Friday so I had to post this prior :D  
_

 _If you haven't seen the movie Something New (Sanaa Lathan) I recommend it._

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Friday 4th March 2016, 5.19pm, Joss' Apartment_

John proved just how CCTV camera-shy he was by waiting for Taylor at JFK Airport in between the superfluity of nuns and the woman with a dozen large helium balloons. Even though he could barely keep his eyes open after the power nap from Atlanta, Taylor spotted the Washington Huskies baseball cap at arrivals and was surprised see him in such a normal setting. John thought Taylor looked like a grunt; pumped from working out, sleep-deprived and hungry. Although Joss resisted being on bedrest by hacking Lionel's phone and trying to get Shaw to clue her in the latest number, Taylor's return was the one thing that had her laid out under the covers behind a locked door because she didn't want him to see her in her present condition.

Taylor's voracious appetite was responsible for the high heaped sandwich that had everything on it. "There's a turkey in the freezer." John joked, trying to lighten the mood before he dropped the bomb on his woman's son.

"You want some?" Taylor asked, hoping he'd say no.

"Just the pickle." He sighed with relief and obliged; his bloodshot eyes ate the sandwich before his mouth did. John could relate when seeing him wolf half of it down. "How's college?"

"Good. Statistics is kicking my ass, but it's okay."

"Your mom said you're in Kappa Something New."

"Kappa Lambda _Nu_. And I'm not." He corrected him.

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks."

John really wasn't ready for this, and wished Joss would come downstairs and put him out of his misery. "You know I love your mom, right?"

 _Here we go._ "Mm-hmm." Taylor replied between bites.

"We're..."

"Getting married? Okay." He shrugged his shoulders, unfazed, and kept eating.

"Not exactly. Wait, did she say something?"

"No, I just thought since you've been around that's what it was."

It sounded so logical coming from his teenage mouth but still felt so foreign to John. "Why?"

"'Cause that's what people _do_. So what is it?"

"She's…we're...pregnant."

5.26pm was the time on the digital clock Taylor lost his appetite, and almost his stomach. The _who_ and _what_ were obvious, the _where_ and _how_ would give him nightmares if he dared to think about it. "When?" was the only safe question to ask.

"They're due on August 2nd. Twins."

"Twins?" He exclaimed, thinking the situation went from gross to disgusting in 0.5 seconds and sliding the plate out of reach.

"No-one was more surprised than me." It was obvious the queasy look on his face wasn't from indigestion. "Until you, that is."

He'd learnt to hold his stomach from pledging antics but that didn't make it easy. "Why didn't _Ma_ tell me? It's been _months_."

John could read the disappointment on his face. "She only found out a few weeks ago."

"Still. Why?"

John tried to explain but he didn't know what to say, because he wasn't a parent yet, because he didn't do this, because he wasn't a talker, because... "She doesn't want you to judge her."

"I don't." Taylor said simply because it was the truth.

John made another stab in the dark. "Or think less of her."

"I don't."

He couldn't remember the last time he was in this deep and couldn't find a smooth way out, but he kept trying. "So…you're cool?"

"Not really. But it's none of my business so..." Taylor sighed and poured himself a glass of juice.

"It _is_ your business. They're your brothers."

"You know that already? Wow."

John didn't think he was bombing. He knew he was bombing; bombing like Roseanne Barr singing the National Anthem at a baseball game. "We didn't mean to leave you out, I mean you're in Atlanta, and it's a long wait. I really should've told you sooner."

Taylor had never seen him nervous before, not the man who once pulled a grenade out of his pocket looking for money at a hot dog stand. "So where's Ma?"

"Upstairs. She's on bedrest." He couldn't read Taylor's thoughts but wished he could. "She's been overdoing it, as usual. But I know she'll feel better now you know. And if you're mad-"

"I'm not."

"-Then take it out on me. I won't take it personal."

Taylor smiled because John had the wrong end of the stick. "You really love her, John?"

"Of course I do. This whole thing is a big surprise."

He nodded because he was processing. "You know this bedrest thing won't work, right?"

"I know. Hey, we're taking names for the twins so if you have any ideas-"

"Too soon."

"It was worth a shot."

"I can't see you up late with screaming twins."

"That's what _you're_ here for. I'll be on the job."

"And what job is that again, John?" Taylor asked, impersonating his Grandma.

John assumed if he could joke about it he was taking it well. "Telemarketing."

Taylor felt the queasy feeling subside. "They're due in August, right?"

"Right."

"Good luck; I'm back at school in September."

Hearing laughter was enough for Joss to tentatively come downstairs. She was barefoot in a green Kermit tank top and black leggings and seeing as Taylor hadn't seen her since New Year's, the sight of his mom actually 'knocked up' in person was one part hilarious and two parts odd. Her head didn't match her body and although he tried not to stare at her bump, it rendered him silent. "Hey Tay."

She hugged him so tight he felt her bump and there were no words for that but... "Hey Ma…whoa."

She pinched his chin and smiled, her face was a little fuller. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

She could tell he wasn't but the timing was wrong. "I'm glad you're here. Glad you're _home_."

"Me too."

"Movie night? There's an Eddie Murphy marathon on."

"Uhh, I kinda made plans."

She looked over at John. "See? They go from growing inside you to ditching you just like that."

Taylor tried looking somewhere else so his eyes focused on the pad on her arm instead. "I thought you were on bedrest. What's up with that?"

"That's why." John explained. "Even the doctor knows what we all know." They looked at her knowingly and she didn't like it.

"You're no-one to talk, Mr _Scalpel-in-the-First-Aid-kit_." She didn't usually bring up their expletive-laden, D.I.Y. bullet removals at the crack of dawn but this time it was appropriate.

John lived to rile her up and let her down easy when she was inches from wringing his neck, often not fighting was better than fighting. "All I know is…you look radiant today. And _every_ day."

She swatted his hand away. "Save it for my mother."

Taylor instinctively found a spot to watch from and keep score, finding the strength to finish his sandwich. "Hey Taylor, you think Fisher Price makes Baby's first Crossbow? You think we'll get a two-for-one discount?"

"Here you go, bragging it's some kind of achievement."

"They're fraternal; that _is_ an achievement." He reminded her. "Did I ever tell you my social worker called me a _well_ of untapped potential?"

Joss hated being stumped, especially with an audience, but she couldn't come up with a comeback that was good enough for the moment. _Damn pregnancy brain. Damn doctor. Damn blue eyes. Damn crazy-stupid-gun-toting fugitive-unprotected love._ Even her son knew John had won this round and he was on her side for life. _Damn John_.


	9. Stir Crazy

_A/N: Working like a nut, still trying to write daily. :)  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Saturday 5th March 2016, 6.21pm, Joss' Apartment_

When Evelyn Magnolia Willie-Mae Thomas put her mind to something she was irrepressible in achieving it; determined to bend and badger any opponents to her will. Luckily for her, the only person in the world with the stomach to stand up to her was at an intimate venue practicing with his band, leaving her to impress her nursery plans for her grandchildren on her long-suffering daughter. There was enough royal blue and white in Joss' closet so she couldn't understand why the living room was full of navy blue and white paraphernalia until she put the curtains, the magazines and the plastic floats for the wall together.

"Ma, I really appreciate it but-"

"You don't have to thank me, Jocelyn, it's my pleasure." Her eyes beamed at the matching baby-blue and beige onesies. "See what they say? _If you think I'm trouble, you should meet my daddy._ Adorable. They didn't have anything like this when Taylor was born."

Joss caught a glimpse of the shopping bags by the door and just knew there were more in the car. "Ma,"

"John _loves_ the colour scheme. He thinks it looks very masculine and I can do _anything_ I like. He's really growing on me."

Joss tried to breathe but it was no use. Two days before her birthday and stir crazy from being benched for four long days, she hadn't figured out what the most annoying thing about being on bedrest was but she kept a list so she could pick one out later.

1\. She couldn't work

2\. The novelty wore off John's fertility jokes two days ago

3\. Her skin was clammy under the arm pad and wearing it most of the time sucked

4\. Her BP monitor had a memory so she couldn't fiddle with the numbers

5\. She swore her feet were swelling

6\. The house was hotter than July…but only to her because _someone_ kept turning down the AC

7\. Fusco was blowing her off about the Siedal case

8\. No-one was paying attention to her…

9\. …Except her mother who was dangerously close to moving in and _no-one_ needed that much attention

10\. John was out doing something, somewhere, much more interesting than anything on TV

11\. She hadn't had a normal blood pressure starting with less than 150 and it wasn't getting better meaning the likelihood of her going back to work was sinking by the day.

And then the door rang, sounding like the heavens had opened up and she'd get some other company. Taylor was hauled up in his room and only appeared to get food and check on her.

"Paul." This wasn't the company she was looking for. Shaw and a box of curly fries…or even Bear would've been better. Hearing Paul's mouth quickly made #12 on her list.

"Oh my _God_." From what Paul could remember the first time around, she was beautiful pregnant and this was no different. She definitely had the glow and her hair was down, think and long like the old days. Her bump wasn't that big but it was…right _there_. But nobody said she was pregnant. Not even Taylor. And he couldn't believe she could even _think_ of having a child with someone else, especially a jackass who worked for the government and walked around like a _Rocky_ -Jack Bauer hybrid.

After a long silence, she greeted him. "I'm good, thanks for asking. You?"

"Yeah. I'm good." He clearly wasn't from his unbroken stare to his open mouth. "Damn, Joss. You're just full of surprises, huh?"

She scratched her lower back; #13: her skin was itching. "It's not like you to show up unannounced."

"Tony scored some MMA tickets, but he can't make it. So I thought Taylor wanted to see Rousey reclaim her title, _or not_."

"That's great but you should've called."

He was still staring. "So should you."

She couldn't believe he was being this petty…actually yes she could. "I haven't seen you since Orientation, Paul. And it's been good for us."

"Because?"

She explained what she thought was obvious. "Because the one thing we have to talk about lives out of state. Remember?"

He rubbed his mouth with his left hand because he disagreed with her. "You know he wants to drop line, right? He can't do that."

Though it was news to her and explained why there was something off with him, she didn't let on. "Talk to your son."

"Joss,"

"I mean it. I'm not getting involved with fraternity business. I'll tell him you're here."

He noticed the pad on her arm and knew not to push her today. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks. Nice seeing you, Paul. Wait in the car." Her tone let him know it wasn't a suggestion. Unless you wanna catch up with Ma?" He nodded and swiftly got off her doorstep.

 _8.47pm, 227th St, Cambria Heights, Queens_

Shaw's mind was busy; with Carter on a bench for now she only had her last encounter with Alan Siedal to worry about. The truth was when she killed him she wasn't under direct threat, or defending herself; she did it to bury the truth he held, leaving only one more person on Earth aware of his role in the oil well sabotage of February '09. She knew Carter knew something, why else would she have checked out an old Daily Journal in Turkish from NYU's library when she didn't understand the language? Between Alan's comrade and the sounds of Finch's shiny, reconditioned Addams Family pinball machine, she couldn't get much sleep or any peace. He was on level 13 when a new number came up and it appeared he was paying more attention to the game than the Machine even though John brushed it off as a passing phase. Ayesha Munroe, 27, was their immediate priority as her ex-boyfriend was released from prison hours before after a 4 year bid.

"Tell me the fun part again." Shaw requested, slurping a chocolate malt shake.

"When he got popped for selling stolen car parts, Lenny Wyatt and Ayesha Munroe were engaged. 8 months into year 1, she met someone new at her job and dumped him on a collect call."

"Then…" She prodded.

"She put a block on her phone and filed a no-contact order."

"And now Larry Crazy's free and he's about to violate his parole in the first 24." She sighed with a mix of relief and pleasure in his misfortunes. "Where's Michelin man?"

"Lionel's out being human; he doesn't want to hear from us unless the situation requires handcuffs."

She shrugged her shoulders. "If that's what he's into. You think a hooker would put him out of his misery?"

"I don't know, Shaw, he seems happy with Alexa."

"I meant Harold." She clarified, finding no gummy bears at the bottom of the packet and cursing in her head.

"He's lonely, not desperate." He replied, knowing if he argued with her they would both end up down the rabbit hole.

"She broke his brain; I'm trying to help."

"Think of it as a sabbatical. His brain's on vacation in Europe."

"I call it 'whipped from a distance.'" She mused. "What's up with that?"

"He's holding on."

"Like his life depends on it."

"Exactly. She _is_ his life; his _old_ life. The only real connection to it."

"I still vote hooker."


	10. My Father's Son

_A/N: Thanks for the birthday wishes - this is for all the Pisceans :)  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

Saturday 5th March 2016, 10.33pm, Cambria Heights

By now it was clear as day, that Lionel Fusco would never get a peaceful date night with Alexa. Instead of dinner and flowers, Larry Wyatt was missing a few teeth and Ayesha was shivering in her doorstep. It didn't help matters that Shaw was as surly as ever, giving him the lowdown between bites of her protein bar. "Here's your perp, there's your vic, the rope's your weapon and he made a mess breaking in through the back. You're welcome. Hi Alice," She greeted, picking a wedge of peanut cereal from her back teeth.  
"Alexa." He corrected her.  
"Whatever." In the time It took Alexa to register that this was what he meant by 'a little help from my friends', Shaw had already burned rubber speeding off in her car.  
Alexa noticed the Illinois plates had a letter missing. "Who was that?"  
"A storm in a shot glass."  
"Don't you mean teacup?"  
"Trust me." He confirmed, slipping some handcuffs on a half-conscious Larry. "You ready to make a statement at the Precinct?" He asked a bewildered Ayesha, who nodded nervously.

"Uhh Lionel, who are your other friends?" Alexa asked, quietly, wondering what the hell she'd gotten herself into.

11.04pm, Midtown, Manhattan

"You sure you're not hungry?" Paul asked again, on their mile-long walk to the car. Even though he didn't pay for the tickets, every free parking spot seemed to be taken and Paul was too frugal to consider paying.  
Taylor knew what was coming, because his dad wasn't subtle. "Nope."  
"Are you still thinking about dropping line?"  
"Is that why we're here?"  
"No. I wanted to see you. But I'll be honest; I was shocked to hear that cause you've never quit anything before."  
"Guitar, hockey, skateboarding." Taylor replied. "I quit those."  
"It's not the same. Pledging is tough, but you gotta hang in there."  
Unbeknownst to him, Taylor had already heard the hard sell. "'Cause it's about brotherhood and community, right?"  
"Right."  
"Then what about ego and ass-kissing and getting wasted and treating girls like crap?"  
"Different chapters have different ways of doing things. But that doesn't make it all bad. Think of all the stuff you've learnt already; standing together, perseverance." He noticed his son was drifting away. "Taylor."  
"You sound just like them."  
"I am one of them and I thought that's what you wanted too."

"Yeah well…"

"Have you told your Big?"  
"Yep."  
"And what'd he say?"  
"That I'll get over it and it'll pass."  
Paul nodded in agreement. "He's right."  
He's not. "All I've learnt is how to be someone I'm not."

"And what's that?"

An asshole. "I'm not a Kappa."  
"Taylor-"  
"I don't want to be a Kappa."  
For a reason Paul couldn't explain and would probably unearth in therapy, hearing his son utter those words made him nervous. "Did you tell him that?"  
"No."  
He sighed with relief. "Good."  
"But I'm going to." Taylor said resolutely, because he finally had some distance from it.  
"Tay-"  
"I don't wanna cross over, Dad."  
"So you're pulling out before you get the chance? Son, sands last forever." He shook his head, feeling a strong but unfamiliar emotion; disappointment in his son. So much so that he shook his head in disapproval like he'd dropped out of college to be a rapper. "You'll regret that."

Deep down Taylor knew he wouldn't but his dad would regret it enough for both of them. They shared an awkward silence punctuated by footsteps and the occasional horn. Although they had never had much in common it seemed that their polar positions had put them squarely in different planets. And just when it seemed like the car was in sight, he received a call from an Unknown number. "Hi, oh...okay...Flatbush...okay I will...bye."  
"Who's in Flatbush?"  
"John. Gotta go, sorry."

His tone said he wasn't at all sorry and seeing his son's eagerness to bail out on the conversation that wasn't over, like he was bailing out on the other pledges, just irritated him. "I thought you were coming home."  
"I am. Maybe tomorrow."

"You need a ride?"

The last thing he needed was to add John to the mix. "It's okay. I got it."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Cool." But the tension showed it was anything but.

Sunday 6th March 2016, 6.21pm, Joss' Apartment

The last thing Joss expected to see in the early hours of the morning was her son and her man arriving home together and that could only mean one thing; trouble. She'd spent the hours binge-watching murder shows on TV because the only way she could get better was to bore herself to death in the process.

"What are you guys up to?"

"Nothing." They said in unison.

She stared at John for long enough to get a read on him. "You didn't. I know you didn't take my son out on a merry adventure."  
"He had the merry part, I had the adventure."  
"John."

Taylor instinctively edged towards the wall so if and when she exploded John could take the brunt of the impact. "Would I ever put Taylor in danger?"  
"That's not the point. You okay, Tay?"  
"Yep. I told Dad I'm gonna drop."  
"Is that what you want?"  
"Yeah."  
"Then I'm proud of you." She said, rewinding what she'd missed.  
"That's it?" He asked, expecting more.

"You two never change; you don't communicate and expect me to translate for you. Well I'm not going to. So yeah, that's it."  
"What's on?" Taylor asked, noticing her notepad was full of chicken scratch.  
"Everyday Murders. The parents didn't do it; it was SIDS."  
"It's only been 4 days, Joss." John commented.  
"And who's fault is that?" She asked defensively, wishing she could wipe that signature smirk off his face for good. "You need to talk to Dad, Tay."

"How? Why's he so mad?"  
"Because he's still a frat guy 40 years later." John interrupted, thinking diplomacy was Joss' area not his.

"He's only a year older than me, you know."  
"You're a sorority girl, that's different."  
"How?"

There went those blue eyes again. He looked her up and down. "You know how."  
She blushed and looked away bashfully, until she remembered her son was still there. "He's surprised, that's all. Just tell him how you feel."  
"For the record, I'm not, like I said; Taylor doesn't do groups. Sounds like one of those Indians vs Chiefs things to me." They were both bemused at how close he and Evelyn had become. "What? I'm surprised you stuck it out that long."  
"I kinda got sucked in, it seemed like a good idea at the beginning."  
"In other words, it's a merry band of d-bags." Taylor co-signed his sentiment with a shoulder shrug. "'Night Taylor."  
"'Night."

Joss wasn't used to someone else taking the lead with her son, but seeing as they had a rhythm there was nothing she could do but enjoy it. Anything that made Taylor feel more comfortable in his own skin was alright with her, even though she had no desire for his becoming a fake ID card-carrying member of Team Machine.

"So, gimme the headline." She made room for him on the sofa.

"Two concerned citizens-"

She put the show on pause. "The real one."

"Teen girl catfished by man old enough to be her father."

"And you needed Taylor to...?"

"...Dazzle her with his charm while I did what I do." He slipped his hands under her blanket. "Now, do you still want to talk about work?"

"He can't be your Robin, John."  
"Why not? Taylor's better with the ladies with I am and he needed it."  
"You never had trouble with the ladies." She replied, cursing the day she met him.  
"No, just misadventures." A mischievous smile crept across his face.

"What?"  
"Never mind."

"Tell me."  
He couldn't tell her she smelt different so he kisses her forehead instead. "It's nothing."  
"Nothing?" She asked, unbuttoning his shirt from the top.  
"Nothing. What else do you want tonight? Besides the blow by blow of what happened...which you're not getting."  
"I want you…" She teased, "...to get the berries."  
"I would...but you ate them all."  
"Did not." He nodded once. "Did I?" And again. "And the eggs too?"  
"Don't worry about it."  
She stares at him suspiciously and looked down at her bump. "You want me fat, don't you?"  
"No...n-n-no?"  
"Yes you do, feeding me waffles so I can get cankles like the round side of the family." He tried to hold back laughter, producing that snorting sound that was half school kid-half pig. "It's not funny."  
"Of course it's not. And you're not fat."

He tried to kiss her neck but she rebuffed his advance. "Can you feel that?"  
"I can feel something."

"Like a flutter."

"Actually, it's more of a twitch.  
"Focus." She grabbed his hand. "Here. The babies."

"What's it feel like?"

"Like...they're here to stay."


	11. Ken-doll, Geppetto & the Pinball Machine

_A/N: I was supposed to write something smart/funny/random here...  
_

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Monday 7th March 2016, 10.11am, Dexter's Lab, 52_ _nd_ _Street, Theater District, Times Square, New York_

Shaw knew something was wrong when she started humming along involuntarily with the reconditioned 1992 Addams Family pinball machine. Bear smelt her from the entrance, and sniffed around her trenchcoat pocket until she produced a stick of beef jerky.

"Harold, did you feed Bear today?" She asked, since he hadn't greeted her in months.

"Sirloin, thinly sliced." Finch replied, not taking his eyes off the game.

She thought it was a good sign that Bear was getting something better than kibble. "And Ken-Doll, where is he?"

"Mr Reese is somewhere, not in imminent danger, according to The Machine."

"How long have you been playing that?" She asked, reading _G-R-E-E-D opens the bookcase_ over his shoulder.

"Well, I started with 50 dollars in quarters and a quarter gives roughly 6 minutes of play so if you multiply that by-"

"Harold. You can't live like this."

"As far as I remember this is _my_ Penthouse. And that means I can."

"But-"

He put the game on pause, realising his back needed a break from standing for so long. "We need to discuss boundaries. I assure you my mental capabilities are intact, and as for your other idea; frankly, I found your suggestion quite filthy."

"Filthy?"

"Yes, like 3-day-old milk on stale cereal." That was an example she could empathise with. "So unless there's something you need, besides another cadaver removal for which Mr Reese is better suited, I suggest you leave me in peace. Lurch was so unappreciated."

She stared at him, since it happened she thought she and John had done a decent job of keeping it a secret. "You know about Alan?"

"And his former comrade, who would do best not to enter the country unless he wants to be extradited? Yes I do. They called him Aslan, which translates to Lion, which is also the name C.S. Lewis used in the Chronicles of Narnia."

"For who?"

"The lion. As in; the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." He explained. "What I don't understand is why you had such a drastic reaction to Mr Siedal when you saw him. What took place in your loft that resulted in his demise? It clearly wasn't premeditated."

She didn't know how to take him. "You know what? I think I'll take Bear for a _long_ walk."

 _11.41am, Joss' Apartment_

Taylor always knew when John was up to something, because he became really calm and rational just before he did something that belonged in a 3-hour action movie. Like today for instance, was his mom's 45th birthday and besides the stack of waffles they couldn't finish, everything seemed pretty normal. John was reading across multiple newspapers at the kitchen island and tearing out articles of interest, but he had no idea why.

"You think your mom would say yes?" John asked casually, scanning the sports pages.

Taylor's eyes grew with a combination of suspicion and confusion. "You're gonna propose? _Today_?"

"Maybe."

Taylor smiled at the masterful work of the puppetmaster. "Gram got to you, huh? How? Coconut cake?"  
"Island rum cake. Twice soaked." Taylor tried not to laugh. "But it's not about that, it's about us."

"If that's what you want…"

John looked up at him. "You need to be more direct. It'll help when you jump line."

" _Drop_ line...Getting married doesn't mean you're gonna be there for her, or the twins. 'Cause if it did…anyway, if you want to, I guess you should do it."

"That's not exactly a vote of confidence."

"I thought you wanted me to be direct."

"Touché."

"So what'd you get Ma for her birthday?"

"I thought the ring was the gift." Taylor shook his head. "Guess not. I'll think of something."

"Good luck."  
"What'd you mean? You're supposed to help. You know what she likes."  
"Someone's gotta keep Gram away for the day. That's _my_ gift."  
"You're kidding."  
"Nope. I'm pretty low on cash but sanity is _priceless_. So try getting her something she can use." 

If Joss could see herself, she would've known her tank top was a few inches too short at the front and her hair that didn't make it into the lazy bun was hanging down her neck. But she was too distracted by the oncoming train that was Evelyn on the phone. "... _Because_ I don't do shotgun, pistol or rifle weddings 'cause I'm not ashamed and it's not 1969, tell Aunt Cammie _that_...yes...I love it, so thank you...yeah you _do_ have the best taste…not yet...I don't know...The roof is leaking?... _Yes_ I'll make a donation...not _that_ big...What'd you mean John's good for it?...Ma?...Okay love you too. Bye."

Taylor noticed she was going through the cupboards absent-mindedly. "I put the chocolate turtles in the fridge."

"I'm looking for the crackers." They knew better than to tell her she'd eaten the box already. "You look better, Tay."

"It's the sleep..and the food."

"And the girl with the fridge magnets on her face?" She pried, while looking in the fridge for something she'd already finished.

"They're piercings. And she's-"

"Absolutely, positively, not your girlfriend. Right?"

"She's _not_."

John wasn't buying it either but he wouldn't say it. "I thought you were sleeping in."

"I was. What's up with you two?"

"Nothing." They said in unison.

"If I find out you've been leaping tall buildings with my son when I _specifically_ asked you not to-"

Taylor zipped up his jacket and ran for cover. "Gotta go."

She wrapped some cheese in a slice of pastrami and scanned him with her eyes. "What are you up to, John Reese?"

He tore another cutting from the newspaper. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"What did she mean by _John's good for it_?" He shifted in his seat. "The stuff, all that nursery stuff that was on _you_?"

He tried to explain. "Joss-"

"I wasn't into the seaside navy theme at first but I get it now. She shook you down."

"She didn't." _She did._

"How much?" She insisted.

He cleared his throat. "Three grand."

" _Three_ grand! Of course she spent three grand...the matching blue and white cribs...and the dresser. The Ainsley collection. That's so _her_."

He tried to throw her off with a question. "So...you like it?"

"You're on a string, John. Evelyn Geppetto got you _good_ this time. Careful before she makes you dance."

"I don't know how she does it."

"It's an art, John. Never taught, just perfected over time and used against unsuspecting victims." Her eyes flitted between the articles. "What's going on?"

"It's your birthday. And I've got something special planned."

"No you don't." She said cynically, trying to skim-read as much as possible. "All I want for my birthday is _you_ in one piece. And ice cream cake. But make sure there's no-"

"Almond flakes on it. I know you're allergic."

"You're gonna make an _interesting_ dad, John."  
"Don't you mean exceptional? I prefer exceptional."  
"You're _full_ of exceptions but that's how I like it."  
"Why?"  
"I gave up predicting what's next the day I started working with you guys. What's going on?" She asked, referring to the newspaper clipping. "Is this some Finch pattern where they're related but not related at all?"

"You, are a born cop." He kissed her forehead. "And a bored one. There's nothing for you to worry about…except your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" She asked, poking him in the chest.

"I'm taking you somewhere tonight."


	12. Lyte as a Rock

_A/N: First of all, I'm really sorry for pasting the last chapter without formatting which tells you how tired I've been._

 _This is for everyone who's had one of those days/weeks, really likes Jodeci, is or isn't looking forward to season 5, or who's been following me this past year._

 _Random fact: I'm a HUGE MC Lyte fan so credit to her for the title.  
_

 _As always, enjoy and thank you for reading.  
_

* * *

 _Monday 7th March 2016_ _, 8.09pm, Peridot Restaurant and Wine Bar, Throgs Neck, Bronx, NY, USA_

So far, John had done his utmost to keep Joss in the well-crafted, airy bubble he created for her protection; so much so that she couldn't see she was living in one. In it there was enough room for her to breathe and relax in a way she hadn't in years, but it was still delicate. Nonetheless, that kind of living looked as good on her as the royal blue mock wrap dress and pearl teardrop earrings she wore to dinner. Little did she know the ring box in his blazer felt as heavy as a boulder due to the weight of the question it came with...and the answer. For once he wasn't in control and everything was getting to him, even the collar around his neck that was tightening by the minute.

"Are you okay?" She asked as the waiter in the olive green waistcoat refilled her glass of water.

He cleared his throat and felt a scratchy feeling, as though he'd swallowed chalk. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

She smiled and leaned in. "You're sweating."

"Am not." The pools in his armpit said otherwise, although he felt hot and cold at the same time. "I'm just...coming down from that bare-knuckle fight."

"Mm-hmm, all that _intensity_." He noticed she had some lipstick on her teeth but he didn't say anything. "How'd you find this place? It's pretty hidden, river view..."

"It's not the Adriatic or anything."

It was just like him to put himself down, he never could take a compliment. "I _like_ the East River, John. _And_ I like the man who brought me here."

For some reason, the look in her eyes made proposing harder. The innocence of her glowing skin made proposing harder. And the disoriented jazz band were about to make proposing even harder. Amirah Lamont, the jazz ingenue from Tisch, was _supposed_ to start her set with a romantic jazz standard. After all, that's what he paid for. However, fresh off a heartbreak and spurred on by watching Angela Bassett set the car on fire all weekend, she opened her mouth producing Ella's moan instead of Billie's _Very thought of you_ as she sang, " _A woman gets all the blame for everything that happens under the sun, but when it comes to being bad; a woman's not the only one. Trouble is a man; a man who loves me no more, no more…_ "

 _8.37pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst, Queens_

There were a number of things Paul didn't understand about his son; like why he preferred soccer over football when football was clearly a superior game, or why he was still waiting for Frank Ocean's new album, but there was one thing that had him stumped and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Why didn't you tell me you had problems 'til you were ready to quit?" Paul asked with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop as Taylor sank into the couch after driving his grandma around all day.

An obscure channel was playing a _What's Happening?_ Marathon, which Taylor couldn't stand to watch unless Dee was on-screen because it wasn't funny without her.

He had no idea how to answer, because he didn't think of it at the time, before, or after. "Don't know."

"Even though _I'm_ the one who's been through what you're going through?" Taylor's silence was telling. "Why are you dropping line?"

He realised it was always going to be awkward telling the truth, when it seemed more peaceful without it. "'Cause I never wanted to pledge in the first place."

Paul blinked. "Never?" He shook his head. "Then why did you rush?"

Explaining his strategy made it seem sillier than it was, like he'd given weight to something that bore no weight at all. "I never thought I'd get a bid in the first place. So if I rushed, and didn't get one then I wouldn't be here, I guess."

"But you did. They _wanted_ you."

"Yeah, and then I thought I _had_ to pledge 'cause you know…"

"I _don't_ know. I don't understand this. You're _so_ close. Is this about John?

"No."

"But you talk to John."

"We live in the same house...kinda."

"He won't understand this. No-one does unless they're in it. That's why it's a-"

" _Brotherhood_ , I know, I _know_."

In that moment Paul recognised it was a losing game. "And you're still gonna drop. Even though you made it this far and you probably got in. What happened?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Is that why you're home for Spring Break instead of Atlanta with the line?"

" _Dad_."

"You know it's really hard to talk to someone who doesn't talk to you."

"You don't listen."

"What'd you mean _I don't listen_?"

"If I say something, you just go back to whatever you were already saying."

"Like what?"

"Like...I don't wanna be a Kappa."

"Taylor, there's a lot of benefits to being a Kappa. When I got back to New York, who hooked me up with a job? Tony. Why? 'Cause we're _brothers_."

"You're doing it again."

 _9.45pm, Peridot Restaurant and Wine Bar, Throgs Neck, Bronx, NY, USA_

As Amirah lamented on her heartbreak with a rousing striped back rendition of _Don't explain_ , John saw the evening go from back to worse. Not only was Joss lost in it, massaging her belly while transfixed on the mini-stage, but the ring seemed to defy the laws of psychics and burned in his chest like Mount Vesuvius. At least he wasn't sweating.

 _Joss, I've never loved someone this good for me, and done something about it…_

 _I've loved you, for I don't know how long..._

 _I don't know how long we've got together but..._

 _So you're having my baby, and it means so much to me. There's nothing more precious, than to raise a family…_

Granted the last words that came to mind weren't his, but of all the words he thought of, he couldn't find the right words to say. Except one, and it was the worst word he could say all night. "Zoe."

Joss looked up at the sun-kissed could've-been model that was Zoe Morgan, or as Fusco called her, _Legs_. "Hi Zoe, you been on vacation?"

"Crete."

"Nice."

John didn't know this game they were playing, only that it was over his head. Zoe hadn't missed Joss' bump from across the room so it was unmistakable close-up. "Congratulations, a boy?"

"Two, actually."

" _Quelle surprise_!"

"Tell me about it."

The awkward dry laughter that flowed conveyed that they weren't friends any more than an apple was an orange. "Well, all the best to you guys." Zoe mustered, because it was the thing to say and she'd just decided she'd rather have her food to go. Because John never told her himself, or returned her call. Because the last time they'd all been in the same room, he watched Joss date someone else and walked her home after. Because it was borderline humiliating, at the least embarrassing, and she didn't do well in these situations.

And again, John didn't just think he was bombing, he knew he was bombing. "You don't look so good." Joss observed, as the band took a break.

"It was supposed to be special."

"It _is_ special. I like this place. And she can _blow_."

"I brought you here to ask you to marry me." He confessed.

"I know, John." She said, casually. "When Geppetto strikes, she goes in for the kill. That's why she got me these earrings, and why you and Taylor have been in cahoots, and why you dropped your fork three times already." It shouldn't have surprised him that with all the time she had to spare, studying him closely would become a pastime. "Like I said, I want it to come from _you_ , when you're ready. But I appreciate it. So let's just call it Date Night."

He would never understand why she was taking it easy, why she gave him a do-over, or why she went on to have two desserts. Because it should've been a catastrophe, and she should've been more excited, or at least asked to see the ring. The only conclusion he could draw was that she didn't want to get married again; because the jackass had caused irreparable damage and she wouldn't risk it all this time; not even with him. Now the ring box felt like a paper weight, something ordinary. What he never considered was she was comfortable in the bubble he'd created for her. But the thing about living in a bubble was it would surely and inevitably burst.


	13. Tightrope at gunpoint

_A/N: A short one before a time jump. I'm behind on this and another short fic but I'm working on it._

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

Thursday 10th March, 3.07am, Joss' Apartment

Ever since the failed proposal attempt, John stayed busy. Joss hadn't brought it up so he had no reason too until he could stage it better and give her what she deserved, which was probably more than he had to give her. She sensed his weariness, but between her growing fatigue and Taylor's evasiveness about the "something really bad" Paul was convinced was behind his decision, she didn't have the energy to crack more than one difficult nut at a time. He spotted the light under Taylor's bedroom door and wondered why he was still awake.

John slid into bed, as hard as it was to maneuver his way around her crooked body and the V-shaped pillow under her stomach. He gently pulled her earphones out and turned off the TV. "You smell like outside." She said, emitting a small laugh from her chest. "Bourbon, the good stuff, and grass."

"You smell like a stall at the mall."

She squeezed his hand and pulled it onto her chest. "Such a romantic."

"If I was-"

"Stop. You'll spoil it for next time. My dad used to say, if at first you don't succeed; don't embarrass yourself or me."

He knew she was being serious, but he couldn't help the snort that came out. "A regular Shakespeare."

"He thought so."

Her hair smelt like jasmine. "I don't know why you're with me."

"When will you listen to me?" He didn't get a chance to ask her was she meant because she went back to sleep even though he couldn't.

8.05am, Dexter's Lab, 52nd Street, Theater District, Times Square, New York

It had been tough, but Shaw had learnt to tune out the pinball machine noise. But her planned carnivore breakfast with Bear was thrown off course when Finch unveiled a Donkey Kong arcade game. He hadn't showered, or done that spiky thing he usually did with his hair, but here he was; about to spend his day chasing the high score with The Machine chugging in the background. In Shaw's mind, she'd been as nice about it as she could imagine a nice person could be.

"Wanna know why I...off'ed Alan?" She asked, finally getting a decent reaction out of him.

"I never expected you to volunteer the information, Ms Shaw. Usually, you prefer to be an enigma."

She cleared her throat and placed Bear's prosciutto on a plate on the floor. "He threw me off my game."

He blinked because he was bemused. Shaw was off the rails, at times maniacal, but never ineffective. "Pray, tell."

"When you spend time with a mark, you get…"

"Connected?" He asked, to her disgust.

"Distracted. Familiar. And that blocks your view; you start seeing things that aren't there and you don't see what you should." She explained. "That is, 'til their group sabotages an oil well that kills 134 people and poisons a water supply for thousands. Then you see the damage right in front of your face. Because it's your fault."

"You're not an eco-terrorist, Ms Shaw."

"And you're not a murderer...well, most of the time. But bodies drop like flies and the numbers keep coming, right?" In his eyes, she had a way with words he never appreciated before. Perhaps Shaw developed the closest thing to feelings for Alan and her guard came down. "Alan found me. Well, he thought he found Mehri and he could start over. We could start over; new cover, new lives."

"But?"

"He was collateral damage; a reminder of what happens when you let someone in here. Let go of her, Finch. 'Cause it hurts people you don't even know."

"Grace was, and is, my love."

"And that's why she's a liability."

10.42am, Joss' Apartment

Evelyn took the failed proposal the hardest. Every time she looked at Joss' naked finger, the words 'prayer list' came to mind. It wasn't just that John choked, which she couldn't understand, it was that her daughter didn't seem to mind nearly as much as she should have. "So where is he?" She asked, looking around the living room for at least one picture of them together. Joss never liked old photographs; they reminded her of people who weren't there anymore.

"Gun range with Taylor."

"I see."

"Ma-"

"Is this enough for you, Jocelyn?"

It was too early in the morning for a clash of values, or a misunderstanding; but both were imminent. "You should've seen him. It was like he was walking a tightrope at gunpoint. That's not John."

"So you don't mind if he never marries you?"

"Love shouldn't be that hard. He's not ready."

"To what? To give?"

Joss smiled to herself. "To receive. So I can wait 'til he's ready to be the picture in a frame and until then we'll handle one life change at a time."

Evelyn was buying it because she couldn't understand it. "You're just saying that so you can beat the doctor and win this blood pressure challenge she set."

"There's that too." Joss replied, casually. "I'd like to be married to someone who wants to be married too."

For once, there was no response. A rare and unrepeated occurence.


	14. The word Number

_A/N: Happy Easter! Fictional Easter eggs for all._

 _As always, enjoy.  
_

* * *

 _Two weeks later, Thursday 24th March 2016, 8.43am, 8th Precinct_

Things had been simpler in the life of Lionel Fusco lately, in the few weeks without his partner around placing demands on him that weren't in his best interests and with John popping up less often of late; he was able to please the woman in his life with dinner dates that took place at dinner time and breakfast burritos because he cared. But five minutes in the office and someone was already messing with him. "Okay, what gives?" He asked to the small number of officers paying attention to him.

"I thought it was for me," Joss reasoned from her desk. "Salsa verde, no cheese, extra guac." His face said otherwise. "You _used_ to get me breakfast."

"Carter-"

"No, that's okay." She stood up, looking significantly bigger. "I can get something up the street."

"Whoa, Carter. You really pu..." He caught himself before telling her what she already knew; she'd gained 10 pounds in the last 3 weeks. "You know what? Have it. I thought you were coming back after Easter weekend."

Her smile was smug and full of victory. "Nope, as soon as she signed me off, I had to come in. Any idea why they pulled my access to the Siedal case?"

He knew she wouldn't like the answer. "How about you eat that first? And welcome back." He busied himself by shifting the documents on his desk.

Joss felt struck by the changes. Her partner looked different; his hair was cut a little shorter, his light blue shirt was fitted and the new cologne had a hint of patchouli to it. "So when are you moving in together?"

Fusco should've known she could tell. That didn't mean he wanted to answer. "It's just a key…and she doesn't know about it yet so,"

"My lips are sealed. And good for you."

He cleared his throat. "I heard _Bourne Identity_ choked."

"That's _why_ my lips are sealed."

"I can put him in a headlock for you." He offered.

"It's okay; there's always next time. So what happened with the Siedal case?"

There was no easy way to tell her. "The ONI took it _and_ the body. So it's closed."

"Navy intelligence?"

"Yep, so for us it's case closed. But there's a juicy one about a man and his dog," He could tell she wasn't going for it. "Don't do it, Carter. There's _no_ way the ONI's gonna open the door and you're not as… _discreet_ as you used to be."

The wheels in her head were turning. "You think it was an inside job."

 _She never knew when to quit._ "I think we should let it go…" _Which is the opposite of what you're gonna do_. "Besides we got enough of a caseload to deal with and Trejo's on his way."

She raised her eyebrows. "On his way for what? Wait, he's replacing me?"

"I thought you talked to Captain Nielsen. About desk duty." The blank expression on her face said otherwise. "Guess not."

Suddenly the burrito seemed much more appealing.

 _1.05pm, Central Park_

Harold couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside as it seemed he spent the winter shut away since Grace's union left him devastated. Today the air was supposed to do him good, and give Bear a release. However, as usual he was just a phone call away from distress, or distress was just a phone call away from him. " _Zero, Romeo, Whiskey, Eight, Oscar, Golf, India…_ "

 _5.49pm, Joss' Apartment_

Joss wasn't a 'let it go' type of person. The only consolation to being on desk duty for "medical reasons" was having time to brainstorm why the ONI would take over the case; besides the obvious link between their intelligence gathering operations and the oil well sabotage in Turkey. There was something about Alan Siedal that she couldn't shake and she couldn't explain why, even as she went through the fridge. They were out of milk and pastrami, and she was down to two chocolate turtles, but as usual there were two dozen eggs, a small stack of berries. Even her mom's Frogmore Stew couldn't get her mind off it, until she turned on the 6 o'clock news.

More details about the Brussels attack flooded the screen and she didn't want to watch because she got the same feeling in her stomach she had on 9/11, four days before she enlisted. The Manhattan Neighborhood Network (MNN) wasn't making her feel much better. Roger Levesque, a chef at _Au Fait_ , was bludgeoned in his home with a baseball bat in what was being described as a random attack leaving him in a critical state. His distraught wife, Ava, was making a desperate plea for information. Joss couldn't help to think the Machine should've picked it up, but then again, John wasn't home so there was no telling what he was up to.

 _9.11pm, Joss' Apartment_

Whenever John joined her in the shower, it led to trouble; the kind of trouble her mother warned her about, the kind of trouble that got her hair wet, and the kind of trouble that left less and less room for him in the narrow shower by the day. "You smell like smoke." She sniffed. "Like burning bricks."

Her sense of smell was scarily good these days. He made up an excuse. "It's from all that firefighter moonlighting."

"Yeah, right." She wiped the black marks off his face.

"So you watched the news?"

"Mmm-hmm, Roger Levesque."

"Who?"

"The battered chef."

He shook his head. "Not my collar."

"So now you're a comedian?"

"No, just a crime fighter."

" _Without_ a badge."

"Oh, I've _got_ badges."

"Don't remind me."

 _Friday 25th March 2016, 2.01am, Joss' apartment_

No matter how relaxed she was or how little she drank, the twins woke her up at 2am like clockwork and there was nothing she could do about it. Usually a few crackers and some peanut butter would satisfy her but tonight it was her curiosity, and not her hunger, that gnawed at her. Alan Siedal was on her mind and it wasn't long before she had drawn a mind-map detailing everything she knew. And in the silence it became clearer, that he had the word 'number' written all over him. And slowly but surely, that delicate bubble she'd been living in…burst.


	15. Author's Note

_A/N: Hi everyone, it's been a year since I joined this fandom and I love it...however I'm not enjoying this fic and keep hitting brick walls with how to continue it. I'm currently writing and want to enjoy the process so I've decided to discontinue this one for the time being to free up my creative juices for other stuff._

 _Thanks for following and enjoying my stuff and I hope to get back in 'the zone' soon._


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